


In the Wasteland of Our Lies

by Enk



Series: (Please) Be My Shelter [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alcoholism, F/M, Gender or Sex Swap, Heterosexual Sex, Ironettes/Starkettes, Loki what are you doing?, M/M, Unrequited Love, Warning: Loki, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2017-11-26 21:02:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enk/pseuds/Enk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year after the events on Tony's tropical island, Loki finds himself in an almost surreal effort to keep Earth safe while living the life of a 20-something dancer. He thinks he has it all figured out, but doesn't realize the precarious balance he's created is about to fall apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What Do You Do For Money, Honey?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to finarfiniel for being the fab beta that she is <3

“…two… three…fou- Lucy you’re half a beat ahead… there, that’s it! Good, keep going! Back row, look at Ann for reference!”

Dance has not been Loki’s first choice. Yet, here he is in the middle of a group of women, gyrating to what these mortals considered to be music. It would be vulgar, nearly obscene how obviously these women used their well-sculpted bodies for sexual innuendo; the dance a well-choreographed representation of copulation-

"Lucy! I can can see you thinking from over here!" The obviously fake red haired woman, with an more ingenuine name: Roxy, in front of them barks. "Let's take a break!"

"I'm sorry," Loki bows his head when she stands in front of him.

"Don't, we all have off days." She straightens his shoulders. "Just remember, we're at the Stark Expo pre-event in three days and I want you front left because-"

"I have talent and if I get out of my own head I'll be able to see how amazing I really am." He rolls his eyes.

"Oh shut up, I don't sound like that." She laughs and picks up her water bottle. "We'll do two run-throughs before we hit the showers. You've got it down, I want to see you feel it."

"I will try my best." She loves it when he plays demure, slightly self-conscious, but determined to please.

It's easy really, at least in this body. He looks at himself in the mirror as he stretches: dark hair, pale skin, green eyes… all that stayed the same, but the petite woman staring back at him: that's different. He's been a woman before, but usually his creations were tall and vivacious, curvy and dripping with sex.

This one, Lucy, she is small, narrow, breasts are small peaks beneath the tight shirt he's wearing. The musculature resembles a selection of dancers Loki has studied before assuming this form nearly a year ago. It is really a perfectly sculpted body, every part of it crafted to blend in, to not stand out in a crowd and yet here he is, rehearsing to dance in front thousands of people wearing... well, very little. Somehow, it worked, hiding in the open.

"Okay ladies! Let's take it from the top!" Roxy cues the music and Loki stands in his spot, back right.

The thing about dancing, the thing about dancing that appeals to Loki so much is that despite everything, despite all the things he's had to give up, he is able to lose himself somewhere between the beat and the melody. And when he dips his head and stretches out his arms, he's lost himself in the particularities of movement until the music stops and he's leaning back, arms in the air, panting as sweat drips down his back and chest.

"That was-" Roxy is having a moment, fans at the corners of her eyes with her hands. "I am so proud of you ladies. That was the best yet. You!" She points at Lucy. "You killed it, girl! I wanna see that tomorrow during dress rehearsal."

Loki smiles. He has long given up trying to hide all emotions or be mysterious, stoic. It causes more difficulty to be a completely fake and imaginary person than to allow a little bit of him to slip through, a little glimpse of the person behind the mask of his body. He's okay with that, because it definitely could be worse.

It could be so much worse.

When they return home that night, he is not sore. However, over the past few months he has learned to carry himself as though he felt exhaustion like they did, as though he could wake up sore from a bit of exercise, as though he could tire as quickly as they did. Though sometimes, when he feels the odd twinge, he wonders whether the construct of the body is beginning to deteriorate or if his mind is simply tricked by his body.

“Hey, I’m making some tea.” Ann smiles from the nook they call their kitchen. “Do you want any?”

The apartment is tiny, not enough space for one person to live comfortably, let alone two. Technically, money is no object, but in the spirit of blending in, he had swallowed his pride (if there was any left) and now shared this tiny living space with Ann. Marianne, technically, a young woman of Polynesian-French descent who had sought her luck at NYU for Dance Education but couldn’t continue due to residency issues which denied her a continued scholarship- he knows entirely too much about this woman. He shakes his head.

“No, thank you.” He smiles, and means it. When he had begun caring, he is not certain, but he certainly will not dwell on it. “I think I may just head to bed.”

His room is smaller than his cell in Stark Tower had been. It is so small, that it can barely fit the hidden desk-turns-into-bed. His clothes hang from a rack fastened to the ceiling. The tiny window has bars across it for his safety now rather than to keep him imprisoned. Not that human-forged bars could ever hope to contain him. The continued glow from the neon signs outside the window have become comforting, like the warmth of a hearth by the fire. He pulls the curtains shut.

“Your sentiment is going to be the end of you,” he whispers, and tries to shake off his melancholy thoughts as he pulls the bed from the wall with care and locks his door quietly. 

At first, Ann had been suspicious as to why Lucy would lock her door, but he had given her a look and a wink and it is much better to have her think he is indulging in elaborate masturbation rituals than what he truly is doing. He takes off his clothes and hangs them back up before allowing his true form to take shape.

It hurts, as it always does when he keeps a shape for a long time. He stretches and buries memories which threaten to surface. Now is not the time to indulge in maudlin sentiments. He requires focus and silence. Focus he has; silence he knows is impossible where he now lives. He carefully takes the unabridged version of War and Peace from the shelf on top of the unit. It is a risk to travel now, but he can feel them drawing close.

The world which reappears is silent, barely lit by the distant light of a red dwarf. He does not have much time, he can feel it. He should have never let them get this close. When he slides into the shallow cave at the foot of a nearby mountain; he knows they have found the solar system. The green glowing stone within the sceptre mixes with threads of blue. Thanos is closer than Loki has ever wanted him to be. He travels clutching the sceptre and the book to his chest, jumps erratically across the known universe and with every jump, he changes the magic of the sceptre until it glows a deep green and with the final jump, it loses its glow completely.

At least, Thanos is chasing after the sceptre thinking it to be the gauntlet. Loki looks around the barren moonscape for a place to hide the sceptre once more. This time, he buries it underneath a rock fall in the hopes it will sense neither master for a long time. In the shadows between the worlds, Loki takes care not to travel straight back to Earth to avoid the curious gaze of whomever may be watching.

When he finds himself back in his room, in his apartment, he places the book back on his bed, sits down, and runs his fingers over the cover to explore the texture, the magic hidden beneath.He sighs and closes his eyes. If he only, just for a moment- slowly, he opens the book and caresses the pages. It is an ordinary book until the letters rearrange under the tips of his fingers. No longer a tale of discourse and perceived importance of an act of invasion and its socio-economic impacts which escalates into philosophical drivel which Loki would scoff at- small minds primitively expressing small ideas- but he does not for the words have reached their right order. 

Slowly, he runs his fingers over them. Memories. Memories like knives to his abdomen when he reads these precious moments he has so mercilessly torn from their hosts: Thor’s joy, Phil’s distrust, Tony’s lo- Guilt. It comes suddenly, unexpected. Loki slams the book shut and nearly throws it across the room, consumed with anger. He should have buried it, burnt it, destroyed it, let flames consume the memories so he could move on. With a soft sigh, he falters. The anger washes away as quickly as it had overcome him.

“What demons have ensnared me?” He whispers. “I cannot let you go.”

He tucks the book under his pillow, wills himself back into Lucy’s form, and wonders if he has truly doomed himself. And for the first time in a very long while, he feels truly and utterly alone.

“Hey, sleepyhead!” suddenly comes a shout from outside his door. “We’re late!”

Loki’s head snaps up and he stares at the alarm clock (inelegantly taped to the side of the bed): 9:56. In the morning. They should have caught the train eight minutes ago.

“Fuck.” He randomly grabs clothes from the hangers. Even though he does not require it, he brushes his teeth and swipes a stick of antiperspirant under his arms before grabbing his backpack.

When he whirls out of his room (in yesterday's clothes, he realizes), Ann is standing there, travel mug of coffee and some kind of protein bar to shove in his hands as they rush down the stairs and onto the street. They make it to the train station and wait only a couple of minutes before the train carries them towards Manhattan. Loki makes a face when he finally has time to eat the bar she had shoved at him. It is revolting; he can taste the artificial sweeteners and preservatives and cannot fathom how anyone could eat such a thing. At least he does until he realizes he is starving and devours it in a few bites.

"Seriously, Lucy," Ann sips from her mug, "it's like we don't feed you or something."

"Thank you," he mumbles around the food in his mouth. He would never in his true form, but as Lucy, it feels appropriate to be so... imprecise.

The train rise is silent, or rather, he is silent. Ann chatters away, happily, about nothing at all. He listens mostly. Ann has taken an unwanted interest in what she thinks to be his well-being. If he does not listen or engage her in idle conversation, she will accuse Lucy of brooding and attempt to remedy her inaccurate perception with endless questions in an attempt to be helpful.

Worse than Thor, he thinks and once more feels a sudden pang of guilt and sentiment inside his guts. He bites the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood and the feelings subside. He has not the time for this. He needs to conserve his energy; he needs to protect those he has grown to-

“That’s our stop.” Ann tugs on his sleeve, a look of concern written on her face. The expected questions do not come; instead she smiles and urges him to move his ass lest they get benched from the performance if they do not hurry.

They do not get benched even though there is a rather long lecture on punctuality and the importance thereof. Loki cannot find it in him to care. Since the train ride, everything around him is a blur. The rehearsal rushes by, the world encompassed in a haze. He knows he is starving, the constant use of magic exerting him. He does not register how small the new costumes are even when he is handed double-sided tape to prevent unwanted exposures.

Loki finds his mind wandering through the dress rehearsal, break, everything is blurring into a fog of sensory inputs he is trying to ignore. Travel last night was exhausting and he does not remember the last time he has eaten more than a few morsels. It is not merely hunger, but he knows it will ease- he mentally admonishes himself for using ‘stuff’ with an imagined hand wave for it conjures vivid images of Anthony Stark and that is a mental burden he cannot afford.

When rehearsal is over, he declines heading to some form of establishment to celebrate their impending success. He requires food, food in quantities he cannot justify for his form without raising suspicion. The noise of the city distracts his mind enough to focus on the goal: sustenance. He does not intend to wander down Park Avenue and find himself walking past Stark Tower. The café across the street has become something of an attraction since… Loki looks up when the air suddenly fills with murmurs of excitement and catches a glimpse of Iron Man gliding through the air until he disappears out of sight.

Grinding his teeth, he tries not to imagine the man beneath the suit. Surely, Anthony will have an abundance of willing bodies waiting for him. Loki has read the headlines: ‘Billionaire Rehab in Tahiti’, ‘Iron Man succeeds. Stark fails’, and a dozen others all chronicling the numerous stints in rehab. Not quite the old ways, but he can feel the bite of guilt inside his chest and thinks of the book, the memories, the deepest and darkest thoughts he has now been privy to. He closes his eyes and swallows down the sentiment he can feel churning in his throat. He has not the time for this. 

His bag is full of food and the sun has long set when he wanders off the beaten path in Central Park and settles down in a small grove. There is something incredibly primal about crouching down beneath the cover of trees, rummaging through a bag filled with food, and just letting the hunger take over. The moment Loki does, the rest of the world falls out of focus and there is nothing but he and the food.

Food. It is saturated with artificial flavours, sugar, and chemicals of preservation. Altogether, they create a very unpleasant taste. If it were any other night, if he were in any other state, he would refuse such poor nutrition. He does not. He cannot, not with what is at stake.

The aftermath feels like a haze. He is full and tired and faintly thinks he should have found a safer, more secluded place, but the fatigue is too strong.He leans against the tree behind him and closes his eyes. Only for a moment. He will allow himself only a moment.

A branch cracks. Loki’s eyes fly open. Footsteps. He does not move, not yet. Perhaps they will pass by. Perhaps they are merely disadvantaged lovers –casual or otherwise- meeting in the shadows. Three sets of footsteps, perhaps not.

“Look what we have here.” A snarl from a man, a clichéd snarl from a man, comes from behind him.

“Fell ‘sleep.” He feigns exhaustion and rubs his eyes.

He does not care to be involved in whatever kind of crime scene this is going to become. The man has two companions who position themselves strategically around Loki’s potential escape routes. He has heard enough stories from Ann and the others to know these men are not concerned with the well-being of the young woman they perceive to be in distress.

“We see that.” The man picks up Loki’s bag. “And this place don’t come cheap.”

Loki stands with a sigh. “Do we really have to do this?”

“Yes,” the man steps closer. “Yes, sweetheart, believe we d-“

The man flies into another tree as he is hit in the abdomen with the force of something. Something… hammer shaped. Oh how wonderful, this day could not possibly get any better.

“Unhand her!” Thor bellows and Loki has the immediate urge to point out that he had not yet been ‘handed’, but he does not. The last thing (he does not appreciate that he has to continue lowering his expectations of this day) he needs is his brother making connections Loki cannot afford him to make.

Of course, the men flee, abandoning the one now pinned to the ground by that damned hammer. The ‘bad guys’ are getting away, but in truth, Loki is only irritated because he missed an opportunity to project his anger onto others. Thor pays no attention to the running two -or the one groaning on the ground- as he picks up the bag and hands it over.

“Miss,” he says, genuine concern on his. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Loki takes his bag, does his best to look frightened but determined.  
“Did they hurt you?”

“No,” he shakes his head, his hair falling into his face.

“Do you have a home? Somewhere safe to go?” Of course his brother would never abandon a maiden in distress. Still the sentimental fool.

“Yeah,” he nods, “just ‘cross the bridge, not too far.”

“Allow me to accompany you to safer grounds.”

Thor looks at him, so completely and utterly good, it makes Loki feel sick. He fights down the sudden nearly overwhelming urge to allow himself to be comforted by his brother’s kindness. He cannot risk it.

“I’m fine.” He sort of smiles, curses himself for the sadness that lingers in his face.

“I insist, I-“ Thor looks at Loki, looks at the young woman he sees before him and something in his eyes changes. “Have we, have we been acquainted?”

“No,” Loki shakes his head and bites down terror he cannot allow his eyes to show.  
“Look, thanks for the rescue. I gotta go.” He turns on his heel and does the only thing he can think of. He runs.

Thor is left standing looking after the odd young woman running away. There is something, something that she set in motion inside his brain. He cannot place it, cannot grasp it for the thoughts are too slippery, too far out of reach. He lets her go, but his guts tell him something is going terribly wrong.


	2. Living Easy, Living Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Thor pays Tony a visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhm... so.... err... Hi? 
> 
> Let's pretend I haven't been absent for months, shall we? Thesis ate my brain but got an A- on it, so YAY! I am walking across the stage on Thursday and will be done my degree! NOTHING SHALL STAND IN THE WAY OF MY WRITING NOW!!!

Something changed. Something. Thor doesn’t know what or how or anything beyond the knot inside his guts and the prickling feeling on the back of his neck. He wanders the streets, mjolnir slung over his shoulder. He doesn't notice the wide berth he is given – either in awe or mistrust and fear- the world just rushes past as he replays the events of the night inside his head. Something changed. Something important.

 

When he arrives at Stark Tower, the sun is about to creep above the horizon and he is no closer to a conclusion. The Tower is quiet.The kind of quiet that only comes after a night of drink and debauchery. It is a silence Thor knows well. And it is a silence that worries him. Tony worries him. He steps over the bodies, in varying states of dress and varying states of consciousness. He sighs and looks around. In his younger days, he would have sung a song in Tony's honour, but no longer. The fate of the Earth had become their responsibility. No longer have they the time to indulge in such careless, and for Tony self-destructive, behaviour.

 

"Tony!" He shouts. "We have urgent matters to attend!"

 

He looks around but cannot see Tony amongst the bodies strewn across the penthouse. Jarvis politely informs him that 'Mr. Stark is in the master suite'. Of course. He makes his way up the stairs and pauses when he finds the door locked. The door is not an obstacle, he would not even require his hammer for the task. But Tony is a friend and despite the choices friends make-

 

"Please tell him I am downstairs when he awakens."

 

"Of course."

 

It takes another hour and forty-seven minutes for Tony to wake. An hour and forty-seven minutes in which Thor sends the guests on their way, tidies the penthouse, and figures out how to make coffee with Tony’s unnecessarily complicated machine. Tony isn't naked when he comes downstairs, but the golden mini dress gathered around his waist is certainly not his either. Not that Thor would judge him if it was.

 

"The fuck are you doing here?" Tony mumbles as he scratches his head. "And what crawled into my throat and died. All I can taste is... lawn clippings? That doesn't seem right." He smacks his lips and reaches for the bottle of gin on the counter but Thor puts a cup of coffee in his hand instead.

 

“Something has happened.” Thor looks at Tony and takes a drink from his own mug before explaining all that had come to pass over night. He is surprised when Tony does not tune him out after a few minutes but listens intently.

 

“Was she cute?” Tony asks when Thor finishes.

 

“What? Why do you ask this?”

 

“What I'm trying to figure out,” he pours himself another cup of coffee, “is whether or not your hunch is related to any sort of... attraction.”

 

Thor gives Tony a look and shakes his head, “you've been thinking too much with your loins, man of iron, your judgement is becoming clouded.” He picks up the bottle of gin. “This isn't helping.”

 

“Whoa hey there, big guy, I don't come into your house and tell you what to do.

 

“That is not my purpose.” Thor sighs but says nothing in regards to Tony's addictions. Tony knows. Of course, he knows. He is a broken man desperately trying to put himself back together.

 

“I'm...” Tony pauses. “I don't even know anymore. I am so tired.” He runs a hand over his face and takes a deep breath. There is a moment when he lingers at the edge between sanity and madness, change or stay the course. Sometimes the small choices are the most important, and Thor exhales relieved when Tony stands up straight and nods. “You're right.”

 

Thor simply puts a hand on Tony's shoulder and squeezes (very gently). He understands, wants Tony to know that he 'gets it', that he values Tony as a friend and only wants him to be as safe and healthy as he can possibly be. A notion he has never been able to convey to his own brother, at least not recently. Thor tries to swallow down the sudden lump in his throat.

 

“Okay, this is bromantic and all but I'm gonna interrupt here,” Tony extracts himself from Thor's hand, “and go take a shower.” He needs to not be around this many emotions and feelings and the like.

 

Fleeing to the shower seemed the only escape, only here he is now standing alone, hands splayed against the marble as hot water cascades down his back. The tearing at his insides doesn't stop with his escape, doesn't go away. He wants to drink himself numb but that also hasn't worked in a long time. He turns off the hot water and stands beneath the frigid wet for as long as he can stand it. When he finally gets out of the shower, his skin is red and angry. He doesn't look in the mirror as he dresses. Avoids it. Can't look himself in the eye. That's never a good sign.

 

The smell of breakfast permeates the air when he returns to the kitchen. Thor stands near several frying pans filled with all kinds of eggs and meat and Tony has no idea what the hell that is, but his stomach is so empty, he would eat it nonetheless.

 

“Didn't know you can cook.” Tony slides into a chair by the breakfast bar. There are probably loads of things he doesn't know about Thor or the rest of the Avengers for that matter. Sometimes, he feels he should. And other times, usually just after he wakes or right before sleep, he feels he knows more but-

 

“Eat.” Thor puts a plate of eggs and bacon in front of Tony. “I have more to tell you.” He pours himself a mug of coffee and leans against the counter. “The young woman last night, I know you think me affected but there is more. The air is thick of it.”

 

“That I do not know.”

 

“Not a lot to go on.” Tony finishes the last bites on his plate. “But if there is just a fraction of a chance that you are right and this is some kind of plot...” He reaches for the coffee pot. “Take Natasha with you to find her. Don't scare her, just observe, see if anything suspicious is going on, then report back here.”

 

“That I will do, Anthony.”

 

“Don't call me that!” Tony snipes at Thor, recoils, and pauses confused by his own reaction. “Tony. Just call me Tony.” He shakes his head and mumbles and apology.

 

“As you wish.” Thor looks Tony over for a few moments before he places another plate in front of him. “You require more food.” He sits down across from Tony. “And a friend.”

 

“I have friends.”

 

“Bourbon, Tony Stark, is not a friend.”

 

“You're gonna make me say it, really?”

 

Thor doesn't reply.

 

Tony sighs.

 

“God damn it, Thor, you know I hate-” He runs a hand over his face. “You're my friends. You, Banner, Nat, the Hawk, Cap. I don't have anyone else and we don’t even talk outside of missions, aside from you... now. How can we live in the same building and never see each other? Like we're avoiding each other, but we're supposed to be friends. Yet here I am trying to drink myself to death and why? I feel like I've gained and lost all my friends simultaneously, I-”

 

Is your soliloquy quite finished? Tony hears. A flash. A tall figure. Green eyes. And Pain. Incredible, incredible pain like a fog washing over his mind and saturating every cell of him.

 

“Tony!” He hears Thor shout through the fog. He doesn't hit the floor as expected. Not that Thor's arms are any softer, but at least he hasn't split his skull on the marble tiles.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

The pain spikes, convulses every muscle. Tony tries to blink and get his bearings, tries to see without feeling like daggers are piercing his retina. The pain pulses and spikes and contracts Tony's muscles, taut, too much, blinding pain until he thinks he just may snap. But with every blink, every turn of his head, every move the pain worsens, deepens. He tries to remember the voice, that voice, that form, but the pain rears up, blossoms inside his brain and sends burning electric impulses along his nervous system until he is completely saturated with nothing but pain and fear. He screams.

 

"You are safe!" Thor's arms are still around him. "I am here. I will not abandon you." Tony vaguely hears him shout for Bruce. He doesn't want to fight. He wants to let go and give into the lure of darkness. Wants to let go. Wants to feel nothing.

  
  


He loses breakfast hanging over Thor's forearm, but the man, god, Asgardian, his friend doesn't let go. Just holds him until the pain fades, until the convulsions cease and Tony is able to stand on his own. Thor still holds him, eyeing him carefully.

  
  


"Thank you," Tony whispers and the world turns black.

  
  
  
  


"He should wake up soon." Bruce's voice finds its way into the darkness. Tony doesn't want to wake, doesn't want the pain to happen again. He tries to force himself back into sleep, back into the darkness. There is a prick in his arm. Banner the bastard! Tony opens his eyes, suddenly awake. "There he is." Bruce doesn't smile. In fact, Bruce looks downright annoyed. Probably not Tony's fault.

 

"How long?" He tries to sit up but Thor pushes him firmly back into the mattress.

 

"A few hours," Bruce scans him, "how much did you drink this time?" There is a silent look of disappointment on Bruce's face. One he wears all too often now and it kills Tony every time.

 

"Hey, I was sober!" He pushes to sit up again.

 

"Tony speaks the truth. I was with him when it happened. He spoke and then collapsed in seizure."

 

“I know he tries, Thor.” Bruce sighs. “His success rate just isn't very good yet.”

 

“Uh hey,” Tony shifts and takes the scanner from Bruce, “he is still here. And listening. Massive amounts of pain while well, painful, didn't damage my hearing... or anything else for that matter. In fact, according to this I am in the best health I have been in a long time!” He holds the scanner, slightly triumphant.

 

“That's what worries me.”

 

“Really? You're gonna rain on my parade? Just like that?”

 

“Just like that.” Bruce smiles and takes the scanner away from him. “Okay, compromise. You let me take some blood and I won't prescribe bed rest for the next three days.”

 

“You would never!” Tony tries for scandalized to hide his worry.

 

“I would.” Bruce looks stern. “Chain you to the bed if I have to. I don't know what's wrong with you but there's no way I'm letting you play this off as nothing.”

 

“Alright, alright,” Tony sighs, “vampire away.” He holds out his arm. Fatigue catches up with him when Bruce pulls the needle from his arm. Should he be this tired if he's been out for hours? Bruce doesn't seem worried. In fact Bruce... Tony's eyes close on their own accord.

 

“It's okay,” Bruce pats his arm. “You'll wake up nice and rested.”

 

“Sometimes,” Tony slurs. “You're such an a...ss...”

 

Finally.

 

Rest.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> been working on Chapter 3 for a bit, it's stuck, so I'ma have to unstick it before I commit to an update schedule (which will probably be weekly once I sort this all out)


	3. (S)he was a Fast Machine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki has a perfect plan. Everything is going wrong.

Something changes when Loki ties the boots of his costume. The rush of anticipation he felt moments ago slips away from his grasp. The balance of the magic in this world shifts but for a brief moment. Just enough to confuse and disorient the precarious stack of spells and whispers which surround Loki. He tries to follow the ripples, to find the source of the disruption, but the harder he tries, the further he allows his mind to search- he ends with nothing, not even darkness. Just an empty void, empty as-

He shakes his head.

  
  


"Come on, Lucy!" Roxy waves her arm from the stage entrance. "No time for nerves now!"

  
  


***

  
  


When Tony wakes again the sun is setting behind the cityscape outside his window. He is not alone. For a moment, he tenses, anticipates, fight or flight but Bruce just looks up from his book- Neurology in Clinical Practice- and he relaxes.

  
  


“You drugged me.” Tony slowly sits up, still groggy.

  
  


“I did.” Bruce closes the book on a pen and puts it on the end table beside the chair. There's a bottle of water and a box of crackers. Bruce must have watched him all night. He tries not to feel touched.

  
  


“Even if we overlook all the suspect ethics involved, you don't just drug a friend. Come on Bruce, not cool.”

  
  


“I ran some tests.” Bruce puts his glasses back on.

  
  


“Oh, so I was your unconscious guinea pig?” Tony pretends to be scandalized. “What else happened? You let Clint snuggle me? No wait, did _you_ snuggle me?!”

  
  


“Hah, you wish.” Briefly, Bruce looks amused, about to laugh, but then his face falls again. That. That worries Tony. “I looked at your brain.” Yeah the face he puts on isn't one that's going to tell Tony he's going to be perfectly all right with a couple of days of bed rest.

  
  


“How long?” He asks. Doesn't want to. Can't stop himself.

  
  


“I'm sorry?”

  
  


“How long do I have?” Tony sighs and slides out of bed. “Come on, you found something. It's bad. And judging by your face of doom right now, it's real bad. So, how long do I have left? A year? A month? A week?”

  
  


“Please,” Bruce shakes his head. “dying would just allow you to justify your antics and before long Hulk would have to fish you out of whatever trouble you got yourself in. So, rest assured, even if you were dying, I wouldn't tell you just to contain whatever small amount of self-control and dignity you have left.”

  
  


“That-” Tony processes for a few moments, “-is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“Don't get used to it.” Bruce smirks. “We have work to do. I found... something. No idea what. It barely sticks around enough to process into an image.”

  
  


“So, something is in my brain, we find it, and we take it out. Fantastic, piece of cake.” Bruce looks at him. Oh god damn it. “What else?”

  
  


“Whatever it is, your body is attacking it. And we're not talking a fever for a few days and you'll be okay.”

  
  


“You're talking whatever just happened to me was... it'll get worse with time.”

“I'm sorry.”

  
  


“Yeah, that's just...” Tony trails off as he sits back down. That episode had been enough to nearly tear him apart. The idea of worsening conditions and as Bruce so delightfully puts it: potential extreme mood swings, headaches, nausea, altered perception of the senses (and Tony is convinced he means hallucinations), decreased motor function, and really anything else the brain could possibly cough up.

  
  


“...but we really can't know until more symptoms manifest.”

  
  


“Like I said,” Tony pulls a bag of dried cranberries from the bedside table, “piece of cake.” He can feels Bruce's eyes on him when he gets back up. So he smiles. “Come on, let's switch the lab to neuroscience mode.”

  
  


“Your lab has a neuroscience mode?”

  
  


“It does now.”

  
  


“You know I am not technically qualified to treat you, right?”

  
  


“Yeah? Who is?”

  
  


“Fair enough.” Bruce looks halfway between amusement and defeat. “But I need you to tell me whenever you are feeling out of the ordinary.”

  
  


“I'm extraordinarily hungry right now.”

  
  


“I guess we can order some Chinese or something.” Bruce looks at Tony sceptical. The man had a knack for getting himself into trouble.

  
  


“No way,” Tony pulls his shirt over his head. “Put on your suit, we're going out!”

  
  


“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Bruce know he won't convince Tony to stay in, but he can stall.

  
  


“Last time I was dying? I was alone, shut in, and miserable, not to mention incredibly self-destructive.”

  
  


“So now, you'll be self-destructive surrounded by friends?”

  
  


“There's a reason I love you.” Tony claps Bruce on the back. “Always observant. Jarvis, be a dear and give the gang a call, we're going out!”

  
  


***

  
  


Thor cannot sleep. He is pacing along the corridors of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s facility, secret, underground somewhere. They blindfolded him as though it makes a difference, as though he would not find the place if he decides to pay attention. It does not matter. All he needs is Natasha's new intel on the whereabouts of the strange young woman in the park. If he can only find her, perhaps some of this mystery would clear.

  
  


Natasha finds him a while later accompanied by the Son of Coul.

  
  


“What news do you bring?” He asks.

  
  


“Not much,” Natasha holds out a folder, “it may not be what you are looking for. She appears to be just a young woman. There has been no indication of suspicious activity.”

  
  


“What she is saying,” Phil looks at Thor, “is that we can no longer allocate resources to this search. If you're sticking around, we need you elsewhere.”

  
  


Thor knew it would be futile to argue. In his younger years, he would call them fools and go on his own. S.H.I.E.L.D. would confiscate what information they were about to give him and leave him with what he had now: nothing.

  
  


“Very well,” he says and takes the folder. “Where do you require me?”

  
  


“First thing Monday morning, Director Fury or I will contact you with the necessary information.” Phil turns to leave. “Two days should suffice to get your affairs in order.” The look tells Thor: 'Two days and not a moment longer'. It is perhaps the right advice. Thor's search is in danger of becoming a wild goose chase as Natasha had pointed out during one of their late night patrols. Thor still had nothing more than a feeling in his belly as evidence. Phil and Natasha had indulged him thus far, but he was at the end of the road.

  
  


“Good luck.” Natasha nods and follows Phil back to the depths of the corridors they had come from. He has one last chance. It would not be wasted.

  
  


As he is escorted back to the vehicle which had brought him there, he opened the file folder. It contained a single sheet of paper, an address scrawled in Natasha's near illegible handwriting. It is more than he could have hoped for. Soon, he will be able to speak to the strange young woman from the park again. Soon, he will find answers. He feels elated, hopeful he will have proof more than the feeling of his insides.

  
  


His face falls when he reaches the address: a coffee shop. Nothing more than a place people passed through. No direct connection to the young woman, this is merely a place where she had been spotted more than once. Two days. He has no more than two days and the fading hope that she may stop by before he is required to report back to S.H.I.E.L.D. . Thor sits down when he has ordered and received his drink- coffee, black, the largest size they have. And then, then he waits.

  
  


Hours pass and so do drinks.

  
  


Nothing.

  
  


Faces come and go, blur together until he thinks that everyone has been for coffee at least twice that day. And maybe, that is right. Time seems to pass slower, faster, until Thor's only indication of the hour is the light of day which changes from the cool colours of shade during the day to the bright neon colours of the night. And he continues to wait.

  
  


The pain starts slowly, subtle at the base of his neck. Subtle enough for him to easily ignore. It is less of a pain and more of a twinge, as though he has spent a long day standing by the throne listening to the affairs of Asgard. He ignores it until it becomes a sore spot just where his skull and spine meet. He runs his fingers over the area. It feels wrong somehow. Wrong. Just like he had felt that night when he had first encountered that young woman. Just like the morning when he had held Tony in his arms.

  
  


Thor squints and tries to shake off the pain. It lingers, creates a haze inside his mind until a soft touch pulls him back to reality.

  
  


“Are you alright, son?” An elderly woman looks at him, concerned.

  
  


“Fine,” Thor forces a smile. “Too much caffeine. Thank you for your concern.”

  
  


He stands, surprised by the sudden vertigo he feels, he pauses for a moment. Somehow, he manages to walk outside without stumbling as the pain threatens to overpower his senses. He is nauseated, but he refuses to succumb. Slowly, he takes a few steps but does not make it far before his ears begin to ring and stumbles disoriented, near blind into an alley.

  
  


A startled cry surprises him. He blinks a few times to focus on the blurred figure before him. The young woman from the park.

  
  


“You!” He manages to stay upright as pain surges along his spine. She looks at him. There is a pause, a moment of realization when she recognizes him, and more pain than Thor has ever known.

  
  


The panic in her eyes matches the crescendo of pain cascading down his body until every cell is alight with it. The haze inside his head falls away as Thor still stands. And with the haze, the pain begins to ebb. It is then that he realizes memories have come flooding back. He remembers. He remembers everything.

  
  


“What are you-?” Before she can rush by him, Thor grabs her arm and pulls her deeper into the alley, away from the busy street. Before she can cry for help, he wraps his arms around her in a tight embrace.

  
  


“Brother,” he whispers and holds Loki close. For a moment, he can feel him struggle, but then Loki relaxes and allows the embrace. “I thought I had lost you again.”

  
  


“You have not lost me.” Thor can feel Loki return to his normal form and return the embrace. “You have never lost me. I am always here.”

  
  


Always here. The memories, the pain. Thor realizes the forgotten memories, Loki's magic, all what has come to pass and they no longer remembered, it was Loki's doing which caused Tony's seizures of pain. Something must have gone wrong, their connection must cause weakness in the magic.

  
  


“We must tell the others!” He pushes Loki at arm's length. “You must tell them you have the gauntlet. Together we can-”

  
  


“My dear brother,” Loki tucks a strand of Thor's hair behind his ear. A cool sensation travels over Thor's skin when Loki touches him. “You know I cannot allow this.”

  
“Brother don't, I...” Loki's touch is gentle as he whispers softly in Thor's ear and Thor feels very, very cold before the world turns black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this took only forever *cough* my apologies. Chapter 4 is written and just needs to be edited and Chapter 5 is 1/3 done. Ideally, I should be able to put up Ch 4 between coming back from a trip I leave for in 6 hours and Christmas. Sorry, I have sucked with updating. I very falsely assumed I would have time to be productive whilst running around in Europe.


	4. You (Shook Me All Night Long)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been such a perfect plan, and now it unravels at every end. Slowly, Loki is losing control and his grip on reality.

His brother falls. Eyes glazed over frosty blue, a look of despair written on his features. Thor is helpless now, trapped inside his own, frozen body.  Loki looks down on him and for but a moment, he wants to step out of the alley proud, in armour, ready for any battle, ready for whatever ultimate fate lies before him. For but a moment, he is fearless. It does not last. He transforms back into the small young woman, dishevelled and drags his hand over the grime on the wall and smears it across his face.

 

"I am sorry, brother." He whispers and stumbles out of the alley. It is a little too easy to fake the tears as he steps away from Thor. He has the story laid out perfectly: coffee after a long day, Thor just dragged him into the alley, scared young woman trying to get away from unwanted advances, then he just collapsed, and poor, frightened Lucy just wanted to get away. There isn't a crowd. No one had even stopped. No one asked the Lucy form if she was all right, dirty, with tears streaming down her face. All the better for his purpose. He speeds up his pace before Thor's friends notice and come looking for him. He is nearly down the block about to turn when there is a gentle hand on his shoulder.

 

"Pardon me, Miss," the voice is as gentle as the touch, "but are you all right?"

 

Loki turns to look at the only poor soul who appears to have noticed his 'distress'. He even looks like a fool, eyes soft and blue and friendly. The tall and lanky man  looks at him with concern. There is no ulterior motif in his thought and he keeps only close enough to offer consolation, not to thrust it upon Loki. All the man sees is a poor, distressed young woman crying in the streets of New York and right now Loki really, really needs a bit of distraction.

 

"I think so." He wipes at his eyes. "Some guy just-" He holds back a sob.

 

The man looks almost wounded as his mind fills in the blanks. Wounded for Loki's poor form and the trauma she must have encountered. Good.

 

"Is there anything I can do? Do you want to call the police?"

 

"No," Loki shakes his head, "didn't see his face. I'm okay just a little shaken up." He pulls at his sweater as though he's cold, maybe in shock. He'll let that concerned man decide.

 

"Would you like some company?" He does not come closer. His body language is open, as if calculated to make sure Loki feels at ease. He smiles, soft, a little demure. The way the man's eyes light up when he quietly says "I would like that." tell Loki more than any words the man could ever utter.

 

"Oh terribly rude of me," the man puts his hand on his chest, "I'm Will."

 

"Lucy," Loki extends his hand, playing shy. "Nice to meet you."

 

They end up in a coffee shop a couple of blocks down through bright spaces full of people. Will appears to be rather concerned about Lucy's feelings after what he presumes to have been quite a terrifying encounter. While he does everything in his power to make Loki feel safe, Loki does everything in his power to continue a charade of damsel in distress. He loves a man with a hero complex. They are quite easily played and tonight Loki needs a light diversion to make him forget the things he has to do.

 

Will turns out to be a young (and dashing enough) actor trying to make the jump across the pond from London. Of course, he could not allow his art to be corrupted by the glitz and glamour of Los Angeles and lives in a tiny one-room apartment near whatever theatre which currently employs him for a short run of whatever play. To be honest, Loki stopped paying attention after the word 'actor'. However, the conversation turns back on him when he mentions his profession as a dancer.

 

"Oh that explains your excellent posture." Will compliments Loki. He has a hard time keeping his eyes from rolling. "Ballet or contemporary?" And Loki takes the moment to put the coffee cup to lips, take a sip, and look Will straight in the eye.

 

"Exotic."

 

A range of emotions race across Will's face: confusion, realization, shock, suppression of shock, (and is that a dash of hopeful in there?) before he settles to a polite neutral.

 

"Oh." He manages. "That must be very-" Loki starts laughing sooner than he wants to. "-and I've just been had, haven't I?"

 

"Yes." He smiles, satisfied when an embarrassed flush spreads across Will's cheeks. "I dance with the Stark Industries company."

 

"You're a Starkette!"

 

It is Loki's turn to play the blushing maiden and Will loves it. The conversation continues quite well, quite intriguing, so much that Loki loses himself in it. He enjoys the adoration, the attention, the focus on him, and for too long has he felt like nothing but a burden to himself and everyone else. So, he stops calculating. He stops pretending. He does not even realize the moment he lets his guard down. Perhaps between lattes number two and three. Perhaps when they indulge in dessert at a fancy dessert place. Perhaps when Will puts his cell number into Loki’s cell when he thinks Loki isn’t paying attention. It does not matter, because he does not pull away when Will reaches for his hand after they finish eating.

 

"I am really glad I met you, despite the circumstances."

 

"As am I." Loki smiles and it does not feel put on. It feels good. Right now, he does not need to have a care in the world.

 

"And I don't want to be presumptuous, but I would like to see you again."

 

"I'd like that." He would.

 

"May I walk you home?"

 

"No." Loki watches Will's face fall. He smiles and leans closer, stands on his toes, and kisses the corner of Will's mouth. "But you may walk me to my station."

 

By no stretch of the imagination does Loki believe that this could ever be anything more than what it is: a diversion. He does not have to tell himself that Will is nothing but a means to an end. It no longer matters. He has chosen to ignore that nagging voice inside his head as he walks beside Will through the streets. Finally his mind has found quiet and calm. Will does not know of his true troubles and yet he looks at Loki with caring and fondness. And Loki's mind does not conjure images of Tony or tries to drive him mad with guilt.

 

For too long has it been torn in two and this moment is welcome peace. Loki's mind allows him to stay in the moment and when Will stops in front of the train station building, he places his hands against the man’s chest and gently kisses him. Will returns the kiss, soft and tender, his hands finding Loki’s waist. Perhaps it is that kiss which finally pushes Loki’s mind to let go, to forget, to choose this made-up life over what he left behind.

 

“Will I see you again?” He asks when Loki finally pulls away.

 

“Good night.” Loki smiles and walks to catch a train home.

 

Home.

 

***

 

"What do you mean 'he's frozen'? That doesn't make any sense!" Tony stares Phil down through the vid screen on his phone.

 

"Not sure what you want me to tell you, but that's what it is. Agents found him in an alley after some strange reports. His core temperature is below 15 degrees celsius and falling. We have him at headquarters for observation. There isn't much else we can do here."

 

"So what, someone used some kind of freeze ray on him or something?"

 

"We don't know." Phil sighs. "There appears no sign of a struggle or a wound of any sort. We're as clueless as you, but-"

 

"-I may be able to develop some tech that can defrost him."

 

"That's what we were thinking.”

 

“You need me.”

 

“We pine for you, Mr. Stark. Every day. It is really quite tragic.” Phil is stone-faced.

 

Before Tony can say anything else, Bruce catches his eye. Oh yeah, still dying. He'd almost forgotten about that. Almost. As much as one could forget one's one pending mortality. The random seizures served as reminder enough. It would go over well if he collapsed in the helicarrier. So maybe a trip to SHIELD was out of the question. Yeah, Bruce's face is a definite 'no' on that front.

 

"Okay, well maybe now is not a good time." He says. Phil doesn't know. Phil doesn't need to know. Well, SHIELD doesn't need to know. Phil is smart enough to piece things together. "I mean for me to go there, we have things to do, science you know? Important science. Not that Thor being popsicled doesn't count just-"

 

"I'll see what I can do about transferring him to Stark Tower." Phil nods for a moment. "I'll call you back."

 

He calls back five minutes later. Tony doesn't believe that Phil had to arrange anything. Thor was probably already on a truck on its way to Stark Tower, probably already being transferred into the labs below the penthouse. Phil probably called him from the labs. Tony twitches. How that man could bypass his security so easily will haunt him until he finds out.  For now, there is work to do. He needs to help himself and Thor. He can do this. He's a problem solver. He'll just go on and solve problems then.

 

"I'm gonna," he gestures to the elevator, "science, if you need me tell Jarvis." That's all Bruce needs to know. Tony will be a genius in his lab. Yup. A genius problem solver. He feels refreshed. Whatever Bruce gave him earlier cleared his mind and took most of the pain with it. Good. He needs to concentrate. He will beat this. He will save himself. He will save Thor. He will. Right now.

 

Tony sits down at a desk. He puts his tablet in front of him and stares at the wall.

 

***

 

Ann is still awake when Loki returns to the apartment. She sits on their beat-up sofa in yoga pants and a hooded sweatshirt so big it would fit-

 

“Not gonna lecture you, you’re your own woman... however” her words are ever so slurred, and there is a nearly empty bottle of wine beside an empty pint of ice cream, “but you totally suck for leaving without saying anything! Boo, you whore.” She smiles. “We were celebrating.”

 

“Yes,” he puts his bag on the chair beside the door, “I can see that. And I am very sorry, I did not mean to. I just... needed some air.”

 

“And then you met a handsome face who swept you off your feet and you lost all track of time.”

 

“What?” That is certainly not what happened. Absolutely not. How could she even know that?

 

“Oh ho!” Ann sits up “Very handsome, I see.”

 

Loki feels warmth somewhere between his gut and his throat.  He will not blush. He is not a foolishly infatuated maiden. He will not bl- he can feel the warmth rush to his cheeks. Damn it. On second thought, he rather Ann think he was chasing after ‘handsome’ faces than - his mind breaks the thought, doesn’t allow him to go back.

 

“How did you know?”

 

“The light in your eyes.” She gets up off the couch, a little stumble in her step. “You’ve been nothing but business since I met you. Determined, strong, and frankly a little stuck up sometimes. Just sometimes. I love you, you know that. It’s just that you’re very... intense at times. But tonight, oh tonight my friend, you came home with a soft smile on your face and a twinkle in your eyes.”

 

“Well,” he does not need to  think himself to be a flustered maiden. It is less indulging in charades now and more genuine reactions. His mind finds solace in this life and even if some part of him wanted to return to how things were before; there is no longer certainty that he could.  “I wasn’t trying too- I mean... I just...”

 

“What’s his name?”

 

“Will?”

 

“And what does Will do?” Ann pushes him to sit on the couch.

 

“I think he acts?” The confused damsel is no longer an act.

 

“Oh yeah? Not sure? Too busy batting your eyelashes?” Ann laughs and pours what’s left of the wine into the glass and hands it to Loki. “Tell me everything.”

 

“Well, my dear friend,” he begins and the story rolls off his tongue before he has taken a sip of wine. Of course, he embellishes and romanticizes and falls into an easy conversation with Ann about everything and nothing at all. As the night continues, Tony, Thor, and the quest to keep the gauntlet safe, all this becomes a distant past and for the first time in a long time, he is happy with this life.

 

Lucy’s Life.  

 

_His_ life.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's this? Another update? Within two weeks of the previous one? Now I have to work really hard to get Chapter 5 ready. I won't make promises it will be before I head back to Canada (Jan 7), but I will try my hardest.


	5. Hells Bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything unravels as the end begins, only none of them realize that seemingly nothing stands between Thanos and the price he desires.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for explicit hetero (kind of) sexytimes

 

When the elevator delivers Phil to the Penthouse, Bruce greets him with a nervous smile. 

"Hey," Bruce isn't quite sure what to do here. Tony's been in his dungeon for hours now, but Jarvis reports nominal vital signs, so he isn't too worried. "If you bring Thor to my labs, I can get started on some scans. Tony is... preoccupied with something." 

"Always the tinkerer, isn't he."

"Yeah... right." It could probably be more awkward, but Bruce doesn't want to know how. Things have been weird between him and Phil, him and SHIELD. Something's been off, but he can't pinpoint exactly what. There's been a lot of that going around, he supposes. Thor's been feeling it and now is going to be a popsicle in one of the labs waiting to be defrosted. Tony's definitely been feeling it and now is dying of some mysterious thing Bruce can't figure out no matter how hard he tries. He feels it, too, and the Hulk, well, he doesn't want to explore that option right now, even if the Hulk has been quite close to the surface these past few weeks. Too close for comfort, especially with SHIELD around.

"How are things going here?" Phil says like small-talk is something they do now. 

"Well," Bruce puts on his patient face, "there is a lot of work to do, and with Thor... it's going to be a lot of work for all of us." 

Phil nods and looks like he is going to say something else. He doesn't. Instead he just stands there for a few beats and then pulls a tablet from his briefcase. He hands it to Bruce with a neutral face. 

"Just need your fingerprint on this and he's all yours. Of course, SHIELD expects daily progress reports. Do make sure Stark gets to them." 

"If I'm supposed to babysit Tony, you're going to have to pay me a lot more." Bruce smiles a fake smile, jabs the tablet with his thumb, and hands it back to Phil. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to attend." 

There is nothing else left to say. Phil sure isn't saying anything when Bruce turns back to his work. He doesn't look up when he hears Phil walk away. The man exists to make Bruce's life more difficult. Maybe he should have asked about Thor's condition, preliminary test results, anything like that but that would mean spending more time talking to SHIELD's lackeys. The pencil in Bruce's hand snaps. 

"Okay, calm down big guy," he takes a few long and deep breaths. "I know you haven't been out for a while, but we're pressed for time." 

Bruce can feel rage surging through him, but he rides the waves with a calm mind until it subsides back to the normal annoyance he usually feels. He pulls up Tony's latest brain scan and stares at it for a while. There is nothing wrong with it. Not since that first time has he been successful in replicating an image of the bizarrely churning mass inside Tony's head. If only he had been able to freeze the image in ti- 

"Jarvis," he sits up straight, "how fast can you complete a total brain scan on Thor?" 

"The procedure should take approximately two hours." 

"Let me know as soon as it is done." What if there was something wrong with all of them? "Oh and one more thing: I need Agents Barton, Romanoff, and Rogers to report for brain scans as well." 

"Of course, sir." There is a pause. "Do you believe what is affecting Mr. Stark is affecting the rest of you as well?" 

"Maybe, I don't know." He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. "We've got nothing here. Something is going on, but there is nothing concrete to look at. Nothing I can examine. If I didn't know better I would say it's magi..." He trails off. 

"-nything, Sir. Sir? Sir?" Jarvis' voice startles Bruce. 

"Sorry, what did you say?" He blinks a few times. "I must have spaced out. Lack of sleep, I guess." 

"Perhaps it is time for some rest, Sir." It's not usually like Jarvis to ignore a question, but Bruce does feel exhausted, and maybe he's right after all. "Shall I perform a scan of your brain while you are sleeping?" 

"Good idea," Bruce yawns and stretches. He can barely make out his hands in front of him he's so tired. "I'm just going to nap right here." He barely makes it to the cot behind one of his work benches. He's asleep by the time his head hits the pillow. 

Quite often when Bruce dreams, he finds himself in a meadow, always aware that he is dreaming. Over the course of many years of meditation, he has managed to find a balance between blinding rage and peaceful slumber. Enough to allow his body to rest and let his mind reset, this is his quiet space where usually he allows his mind to paint the skies with formulas that don't make sense in the real world, create forests and mountains only to deconstruct them into subatomic particles. This is his corner of his mind, opposite of where one would find Hulk. This is his safe space. 

Until now. 

The meadow is burnt, trees are torn from the ground, cracks have opened in the Earth. His safe space has been violated, broken, turned into a barren wasteland. Bruce can feel a nearly uncontrollable rage course through every fibre, every cell of his being. 

Hulk is here. 

"You are not supposed to be here." Bruce isn't afraid. He is in control.

"YOU DON'T LISTEN!" Hulk shouts. He always does. 

"I know," he sighs. He has been ignoring Hulk for a while now. "But I am trying to save Tony. He's going to die witho-" 

"NO LISTEN!" Hulk smashed both fists into the ground. Another crack appears as the world shakes and groans beneath the impact. "HULK KNOWS! HULK TELL Y-" 

"No!" Bruce puts up his hand. "This is not your place. This is my place. Your rules do not apply here." 

Hulk stares at him, breathing heavily. He knows Bruce is right. There is nothing Hulk can do here but try to frighten him, and that has not worked in a very long time. This is the sacred space of Bruce Banner. He does not go where Hulk dwells and Hulk does not come here. It is a rule they created some time ago while they... coped with sharing the same body. This is the only way this can work without their minds tearing each other apart. The rules are important and even Hulk will abide by them. 

"Now leave," Bruce creates a door, "please. When Tony is safe, I promise you the rest of this mind and body for as long as you need to let out your anger against me." 

With a grunt, Hulk disappears. Bruce wakes up with a start. For a moment, he is disoriented, unsure if up is down or where he is. The floor is hard and cold under his shoulder. He must have fallen out of bed whilst he'd been sleeping. Sleeping- 

“Jarvis, how long was I out?” 

“Four hours, fifty-two minutes and thirty-seven seconds.” 

“Shit, okay,” Bruce runs a hand over his face to wake himself up. 

“I have the results of your brain scan.” Jarvis informs him. “Would you like me to bring it up on the main screen?” 

“Yeah,” he reached for yesterday’s coffee- cold, stale, and there’s a chance that cream isn’t right any more. He makes a face and concentrates on the scan in front of him. The time sequence runs through and for a while it looks like his other scans looked, normal activity for his brain until- “Jarvis can you go back two frames?” 

There it was, in a state of flux a mass the instruments couldn’t pin point. He pulls up Tony’s scans. They’re virtually identical. Bruce asks for Thor’s scan and within minutes, he finds the same mass in the Asgardian brain as well. Damn. They all had it. He needed to tell Tony, the others. This isn’t some random event. Someone had put those -whatever they were- there. 

“Jarvis, where is Tony right now?” 

“Mr. Stark has not moved.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Mr. Stark has not moved since you last asked for his whereabouts eight hours ago.” 

“He’s still in the lab? Must be on a roll.” Bruce downloads the scans onto his tablet and carries it with him to the elevator and the two storeys up where Tony’s lab is located. The first clue that something’s wrong is the lack of music. Tony always, always works to music, preferably so loud your eardrums vibrate. The second clue is that Tony is sitting down in a chair. Tony didn’t sit when he worked. He raced around like a manic chicken with a chopped off head. 

“Mr. Stark has not moved from that chair since you last asked for his whereabouts.” Now Bruce felt like Jarvis was spelling it out for him. 

“Tony?” He walks over to the man and puts his hand on Tony’s shoulder. He doesn’t move. He’s staring at the wall, pupils blown, blood dripping slowly from his nose. “Oh god, what happened, Tony? Tony look at me!” Cold fear races along Bruce’s spine and settles in his limbs. Tony’s fingers were wrapped around a pen, cramped, finger tips white, but there is no response. Bruce feels sick. Ambulance, he needs to call and ambulance, and SHIELD, but what could they do? Hospital scanners couldn’t even pick this thing up. His head is swimming, he’s never before felt this helpless. “Tony, I’m going to ca-” 

Faintly, Bruce feels a wave of rage wash over him. Detached, he watches his hand change colour to green. Oddly, he feels at peace when Hulk takes over.

 

 

***

 

Loki knows not of the troubles just a few blocks away. Even if they had been public troubles, he would have chosen to ignore them. He is getting dressed when the alarm on his phone goes off: “Sort gloves”. Before, he would have dropped his life to shift away, to move the artifacts as fast as possible, as far from their previous hiding place as he could. The days he was on the move were relatively exciting. An occasion he had looked forward to, to revert back to his true self, to allow his true power and ability to roam freely. He looks at the alarm. He has not changed from Lucy's shape in over a fortnight. 

He snoozes the reminder and picks a short green dress off the bed and frowns. 'I own entirely too much green,' he thinks to himself and throws the dress back into the closet. Instead, he slips into a grey sweater dress, leggings, knee high boots, and maybe a little more make-up than Lucy would wear away from the stage on any given day. The phone alarm goes off again. He doesn't look at it when his fingers cancel the alarm? Who sorts their gloves anyway? Silly drunk self, he thinks, shoulders his bad, grabs his jacket, and leaves without giving it another thought. 

His mind locks away the past and pushes him firmly into the present, which is out the door and into Will's arms. The night unfolds much like the previous one, or the one before that, or the one before even that. This time, Loki finds himself in a club dancing after a dinner at a not particularly fancy restaurant and cocktails at a bar. Dates, his mind enjoyed the attention of courtship, the undivided attention and affection Will gave him. The tendency to do exactly as Loki asked for even but a glimpse of affectionate affirmations. There had been flowers and chocolates and hand-made Thank You cards he left after their dates attached to a red rose. According to Ann, the guy was either straight from a romantic comedy or a serial killer. Loki figured somewhere in-between would do. 

Besides, if Will truly is a serial killer, he wouldn't have waited until their fifth or sixth date to make his move. If so, that would be a lot of investment into a single kill. That isn't how those guys worked. That isn't how this world worked. Not when- "Are you okay?" Will's hand is on the small of Loki's back as he holds his temples waiting for the pain to subside. 

"Headache?" Loki can only nod in reply, the pain is unlike anything he can remember having experienced. Will guides him toward the door with care, away from the pounding bass and out into the cool fresh air. Loki leaned against the wall and tried to massage the pain away. 

"Migraine maybe," he mumbles under his breath. He is nauseated and this really isn't how he wants this night to go. Somewhere hidden deep inside his mind, he knows something is going terribly wrong, but the rest of him is not yet willing to allow those thoughts to surface. 

"Come on," Will smiles- like nothing could ever dampen his spirits- and points down the street. "My place isn't far." 

"Smooth," Loki smirks through the pain. "Taking the damsel in distress to your home which conveniently is close by." 

"Yes, well, I do try." He states simply and wraps an arm around Loki's waist as they walk along the nearly empty streets. Loki does not mind. They walk for a while in the cool air, new, young lovers entwined physically and emotionally. Three blocks later, Will turns Loki left into a tiny row house apartment building and up the stairs. Tiny and clean, not a lot of personality yet, but it is emerging in character with a few art prints stuck to the wall. 

"Well, it is lovely to finally see your place." Loki stands on his toes and pulls Will into a kiss. He had been avoiding this, avoiding to get close, but tonight, his brain shut out any of his previous responsibilities. Tonight, it would be different. 

"Can I offer you anything?" Will breaks the kiss long enough to ask. 

"No." Loki smiles and kisses him again. He cannot allow his mind to catch up with what is happening. 

Will's kisses are passionate, young, and like an all-consuming fire. Loki pulls him down to return them fiercely, filled with need. He needs to feel alive, to feel loved, to feel anything but the burden of the world. It is his hand which initiates, his hand which begins to tug at Will's shirt and jeans; and Will responds, gently and caring in an odd juxtaposition than the passionate kisses. He pushes up Loki's dress almost with reverie, kissing every bit of new skin he exposes. Loki sighs and sinks onto the couch in front of Will's bed (which was right beside the kitchen, and here Loki thought his place was tiny). 

"You are absolutely stunning." Will pulls the dress over Loki's head and gently pushes him to lie down. 

There are many reasons Loki enjoys- no loves- sex as a woman. Everything is tender, amplified, male partners are gentler, more giving. He shimmies his hips when Will tugs on his leggings and pulls them off. Touches are flames, not lightning, burn rather than electrify, spike and flare when Will bites the inside of his thigh. Yet, the man pauses and looks at him before he pulls off Loki's panties. Waits for Loki to nod and bury his fingers in the man's curls before he continues. Loki gasps when he feels Will's lips against him, sighs when Will's tongue drags flat against his sex, and moans when his tongue flicks hard against him. 

Time begins to blur when Loki feels pleasure build and carry him away into a place where no thought or mind exist. He cries out, back arched off the couch when Will pushes him over the edge for the first time; shudders when the man keeps going,  does not stop, like they're both drowning in pleasure and Loki's moans are the only thing that can keep him alive. He does not have to think, does not have to calculate, to tailor his responses. Will just wants him, wants him the way he is and nothing more. Silently asks for permission when he pulls a condom from the nightstand and kisses Loki deep and slow when Loki nods again. There is nothing but here and now and Will's bright blue eyes watching him as the man slowly pushes into Loki. For a moment, all there is in the world is the two of them. It is then that Loki's mind can no longer uphold the spell that binds him to his female form, not completely. Things are scrambled in his mind as he feels himself change and he cannot stop it. And Will, poor, dashing, but confused and scared Will, does not look confused or scared at all. Nor does he stop. Instead, he runs his hand over Loki's fluidly changing form in wonder and looks at him, kisses him gently and moves his hips.

The pain in Loki's heart returns screaming, relentless, and all-consuming. He has to bite back the sting of tears in his eyes so as that Will remain unaware. The memories he had buried so deep inside his mind come flooding back as the spell shatters when Loki’s climax envelops him. He can feel the cracks in this reality, his mind tries to scramble for the silver threads suddenly unravelled. They slip away faster than he can reach them and is left behind watching them slip into the fabric of space and time, forever lost. 

"Is this a dream?" Will whispers and kisses Loki’s ear, his jaw, his mouth. 

"Yes," Loki whispers, biting back the pain, and looks at him. "You can wake up if you like." 

"I don't want to." Will kisses Loki again. His smile momentarily quells the screams overwhelming Loki’s mind, reduces them to a faint whisper. For a moment, he wishes this could be real. Lucy could be real, and he could live a normal life without worry, without fear, but he knows that is no longer his path. 

"Okay." Loki nods and returns Will's kisses, shifts his hips and allows Will to take them both over the edge once more. 

The sun's first rays peek through the broken blinds on the window beside Will's bed and wake Loki from his dreamless sleep. He finds himself naked, back in his Asgardian form draped over the small bed. Will's arm is wrapped around his waist, face buried against Loki's shoulder. Guilt is the first thing he feels. Guilt for having abandoned his new allies, and Anthony. Guilt for having been so foolish to think he could carry this burden alone. He needs to go back, to go to Stark Tower and- he is not truly sure of what he would find there. Forgiveness? Love? He is not a foolish adolescent hoping for love and understanding. No, greater things are at stake; the world, all the worlds are at stake and he had been so foolish to allow himself to be so consumed by the character he had created, to allow Thanos’ objects of desire to be so exposed. There is no more time to waste. 

When he finally moves, Will's eyes open, but Loki whispers soft words in a language almost forgotten and Will's eyes close again. With a soft sigh, Loki gets up off the bed and collects Lucy's clothes and shoves them into her purse. Last night should not have happened. He should not have let go of the spells so easily, but what is done is done. For a few moments, he watches Will sleep as the sun catches in the man's curls. He looks so innocent, perhaps truly a good man. But it is all a lie, a deception, none of this is real. Loki finds a bottle of vodka in Will's cupboard and pours a third of it into the sink before taking a swig and kissing Will one final time. 

"Thank you." He whispers as his long dark hair coils and curls into blond locks. He takes the purse and conjures duplicates of Will's clothes as he takes the man's form. Perhaps this is for the best after all, Loki thinks as he walks down the stairs and out the door. This charade is over now. Lucy died here last night and she could never come back. He throws the purse with the clothes into the dumpster behind the building, sets it on fire, and walks away. 

Or would have walked away. Instead, he hears an earth shattering scream and finds himself thrown into a wall. He weaves the new form tightly to himself as he is grabbed and thrown again, this time he hits the ground hard and slides across the road.

“YOU DID THIS!” A familiar voice screams at him. “THIS IS YOUR FAULT!” Hulk stands on the other side of the road and with a roar, he charges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there seems to be something odd going on with the paragraph spacing. I don't know if it's my 4am brain imagining things or if it is an annoying mess (apologies if it is, I will fix it in the morning)


	6. Shoot to Thrill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything falls apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I finished the finally chapter and before even beginning editing I noticed it is well over 6K. It felt too long for some reason, and since there was a natural break in there, I turned it into two but am posting them both in the same day.

There's screaming inside Tony's head, screaming of a thousand voices all at once. A thousand voices screaming at once where before a void had been. Tony clutches his head- or thinks he's clutching it when that _thing_ inside him unravelled. He screams- or wants to- when he suddenly feels a void torn into his mind.The fog he had been trying to reach through is blown away by a will that are not his. Blood runs free and fast from his nose when the pain finally stops, when the fog lifts, when finally that part of his mind is free.

Pulling back the curtain, there is nothing. _Nothing_. A blank void where he knows something should be, something, anything, thoughts, memories, emotions, but there's nothing there. _Memories_ have gone missing. He feels cold when he realizes that entire weeks are gone. Weeks he hasn't felt the need to think about in over a year. Oh god, what is happening to him? Bile rose in Tony's throat. Why hasn't he thought of them? Why now? Blood, why is there so much blood?

“Tony!” Thor burst into the room and is by his side in moments. Tony doesn't understand what is going on, his brain isn't fast enough to process all this. Empty, he feels empty and possibly in shock as Thor's fingers check his head and face for damage. There's dried blood on Thor's nose. Oh good, it's not just him then.

“My brother-” Thor starts.

“God damn it, Thor, you guys were supposed to contain him in Asgard. That's why we let him go with you. What the hell? What happened?!”

“Contain?” Thor looks at Tony with the kind of surprise he should save for when Tony tells him he's pregnant with a pink elephant. “Do you not remember?”

Ah well, remember, that's a tricky question. Okay, maybe not tricky because it's simple, he doesn't remember anything. There's a big gap where things should be, memories, experiences, he knows they're missing but he doesn't have a fucking clue as to what they could be.

“No,” he says finally, “all I know is that something's missing inside my mi- Loki froze you, that's what you were going to tell me.” It makes sense. Thor had figured out Loki escaped and probably what kind of bullshit he was up to now. Therefore, Loki had turned his brother into a popsicle. Makes sense.

“Yes, but allow me to explain.” Thor reaches for the first aid it and cleans Tony's nose, mouth, and chin carefully. “There is much you should know, but let me begin at the end: Loki erased our memories, yours , mine, all the other Avengers.”

“Why?” it doesn't make sense. Why the hell would Loki steal their memories? It seemed trivial unless Loki had been bored and this all had been some kind of stupid diversion to pass the time. Of course, there's another option which he's sure Thor is going to tell him all about at any moment.

“To protect-”

“Oh thank god!” Natasha runs through the lab door, suited up and apparently ready to go. “Hulk's gone mad. He's playing cat toy with a civilian up along 42nd and 10th. Are you okay, Tony?”

She's never called him Tony before, not even Anthony. It's always Stark or Mr. Stark, always formal, always- why does she look at him like she's concerned?

“He has not regained his memories.” Thor explains. “He knows they are amiss but he does not remember what has come to pass.”

“Oh.” She looks conflicted and Tony feels like he's left out of some inside joke. “Is he- are you okay to suit up? Cap and Hawkeye's attempts to distract Hulk long enough to get the guy out are failing, and we could use some fire power.”

“I think so.” Tony says and Jarvis confirms that he is physically in battle ready condition but should reconsider in light of his current mental capacity. Close enough.

Suiting up doesn't feel right. Tony downs a shot of whatever is in that bottle on the table beside the suit. It should have come naturally, getting into the suit, normal. He's been grounded for a while not but not long enough for it to feel so foreign and for a moment he considers taking Jarvis' advice. Whatever memories he's missing, he doesn't feel himself and after all that happened, he realizes he hasn't felt himself for quite some time, over a year, since Loki stole his memories. He's lived his life wrong and while he has no idea what he's missing, he knows the next time he encounters Loki, he will get answers. It won't be pretty. He swallows the rage with another shot of liquor.

“Look who's back on comm,” Tony hears Clint's voice. “Good to have you-”

“He doesn't remember.” Natasha interrupts.

“That's a bummer.” Clint sounds disappointed when before he wouldn't utter more than a few syllables where Tony was concerned. “We still okay to move back into Stark Tower, right?”

“What?!” Tony nearly flies the suit into the side of a building.

“Let's figure out how to reign in Hulk first.” Natasha says, her breath is faster. She must have gotten out of the car. Running to or from, Tony can't get a fix on her locations. It's strange. Jarvis cycles through all the systems, rebooting at random.

“Sir,” he finally pipes up, “There is interference from an unknown source. It does not currently affect flight protocols but I fear the targeting scanners cannot be trusted at this time.”

“Oh great,” Tony's thrilled, “any other good news?”

“The energy signature is the same as the anomaly formerly located inside your brain.”

Tony's not sure which came first, his shock or Hulk grabbing the ankle of the suit and tossing him into the nearest building. Instinct tells Tony to fire, but the targeting scanners are off and through the dust and rubble he can see the limp form of a man near Hulk's feet.

“Jesus fucking christ,” Tony hopes the man's not dead for Bruce's sake. He doesn't remember having seen Hulk this angry since he took a lap around his island in- he doesn't own an island, does he?

“Hey guys,” he says into the open comm as he extricates himself from the wall he's stuck in. “Stupid question, but do I own an island in the Pacific?”

He's taken off comm. He can tell, not only because of the sudden and complete silence, but he can see Natasha crouching behind a car, talking and Steve halfway down the block does the same thing. Yeah okay, he feels like middle school all over again.

“Come on, guys, I can see you!” He's gearing up to complain more but Hulk grabs the limp form off the ground with a snarl and begins to walk away. “Hey! Guys! He's on the move!” No reply. Now, that's just great.

“Stark, stand down.” Steve's voice is different now, warmer toward him where it had been cold all this time. “If your memories are coming back, being in the air is the last thing you want. Trust me, it hurts.”

“Yeah well,” Tony doesn't have time for maybes. “Hulk's gone mad and that guy looks more dead than alive and where the hell is Tho-” A sudden strike of lightning answers that question. Finally. The only guy who has some kind of a chance to distract Hulk. There's no pause. Thor doesn't give Hulk a moment to recognize him. They clash with a roar and Tony flies low. “If they don't take this fight elsewhere, that guy's gonna get trampled.”

Hulk couldn't have heard him. Still, the big green and angry slows the fight, throws Thor down and away nearly two blocks along 9th , picks up the limp form, and moves on fast. Really fast.

“Fuck this. Jarvis power up weapons, I'll target manually.” Manually here is a fancy term for look-and-hope-to-god-it-doesn't-miss. It's not something Jarvis recommends, but there's no choice. Whatever the fuck goes through Hulk's mind, clearly Bruce has lost control and that's bad. Really bad. He shoots a blast off Hulk's left, not hitting. The man is still limp in Hulk's right hand. What the hell does he want with a civilian anyway? Hulk doesn't even react save for a turn of his head and a growl as he jumps high up Stark Tower.

“Stark, do you have eyes on Hulk?” Steve's in Tony's ear. “We're still trying to catch up.”

“Yeah,” Tony's a little baffled, “he's come home.” He lands on the balcony where Hulk is standing, breathing heavily, the man hanging from his right still.

“YOU NEVER LISTEN!” He screams and throws the man at Tony's feet.

“What the fuck, Hulk?!” Tony flips up the visor after Jarvis tells him the guy is still alive. “You can't just-”

“YOU NEVER LISTEN!”

“I- come on, be fair, I'm trying to.”

“NOT METAL MAN!” Did Hulk just roll his eyes at him? “BANNER NEVER LISTENS!”

Oh that's just great. Banner and Hulk are in a tiff and there are random civilian casualties. By Tony's feet, the man groans and comes to slowly.

“What the hell? No! Doesn't matter what's going on between the two of you, _this_ cannot happen! Ever!”

“CHANGE!” Hulk smashes the ground with his fists. “CHANGE NOW!”

Despite the screaming and the posturing, Hulk doesn't actually make to attack again nor does he try to take the man and run for it even when the others arrive. Tony narrows his eyes. It's like he brought the guy here for a reason.

“HE BROKE IT!” Hulk points- with the bannister of the railing but for now, he's leaving the structural parts of the balcony intact. “HE BROKE METAL MAN! CHANGE!!!” Hulk's roar echoes through the air as Tony crouches beside the guy.

“Hey,” he extends a hand to help him up. “You okay?”

The man stares at him, eyes bright, terrified, desperate, and something else that Tony can't quite place.

“Please, call off your beast, I have to go.” He looks around for an escape route, but between Hulk, Tony, and the rest, his only option looks to be over the balcony and Tony hopes he isn't just that desperate yet.

“You were just dragged through half of Manhattan.” Tony searches the man's eyes for what he doesn't know. “We at least need to make sure you don't have internal injuries.” Though for having been Hulk smashed, the man looks alive and well enough, bit banged up, but Tony expected there to be a lot more blood. He hopes it isn't internal.

“CHANGE!” Hulk roars again and Tony really wants to know what the hell he's on about. “CHANGE, LOKI!”

_Oh._

_Loki._

Tony doesn't wait until the change is complete. He shoots at first sight of black hair. He doesn't give Loki a chance to do whatever the fuck it is that Loki is about to do. He ignores when Loki doesn't attack and shoots again. He ignores when Loki raises his hand, defensive- pleading- and shoots again. Rage blinds him. He's lived his life wrong because of what Loki took from him. He ignores the blood dripping from Loki's mouth and nose and raises his arm to shoot again.

“Stark, stop!” Steve's voice echoes in his ear piece and in the air but what stops Tony is that Thor suddenly appears between Loki and Tony's repulsor hand.

“What the fuck are you doing, Thor?” Tony screams. He's angry. No, he isn't just angry. He's furious. He's furious he feels left out, furious he's still fucking broken, furious Thor is between him and Loki. “How many times does he get to fuck with us before you're no longer on his side over some pseudo-sibling feelings.” He wants to lash out at someone and Thor's right there, protecting the guy who did _this_ to him, to them all. “He's not even your brother! And clearly not interested in playing well with others, and damn it Thor, I don't-” he breaks off, not because Thor looks like he's about to punch him in the face, but because Loki's face is utterly crestfallen, staring up at Tony with some kind of despair that shouldn't be there. Tony doesn't know why he feels that matters, but for some reason it does.

“What Loki did was foolish, but-” Thor begins but Tony can't let him finish.

“No,” he lowers his arm, “no your brother is a big boy. He can speak for himself.” When Loki doesn't speak up right away, Tony sighs. “Look, you had your fun. What the hell were you doing?”

Loki doesn't particularly look like he's having fun. Actually he looks quite the opposite as he appears at conflict with himself, eyes darting nervously around to everyone, everyone but Tony. They all appear to have some fucking silent understanding, that's the worst part. Tony nearly loses it when Steve nods when he thinks Tony can't see him.

“I-,” Loki's voice is odd, cracked, not dripping with arrogance like Tony remembers. “I tried to protect you.” _Wait, what?_ “This... was not supposed to happen. I understand you must hate me now, but perhaps you will find it in you to forgive me-”

“Forgive- forgive you?! Are you mad?” Tony spits and Loki looks struck. “Have you all gone mad? The guy has mind-controlling super powers, he's taken your memories!” He looks at Loki, face twisted to a grimace of hate. “What did you do to them? Implanted false memories? Taken them over with your Glowstick of Destiny?” Tony raises his hand again. “Maybe if I-” Tony stiffens and crumples to the floor as an electric current surges through the suit. One of Clint's arrows sticks against the back plate.

“And just when I thought this couldn't get worse.” Natasha glares at Barton. “Now he's definitely going to think Loki's mind controlling us.”

“Come on,” Barton rolls his eyes, “if Loki had any sort of powers over me, I would have shot Stark in the face.”

Loki frowns as he gets up. Barton has a point, but this is not how he's imagined this all to end up. “Well, this is all wonderful and heart-warming, but as Stark has not regained his memories, something, I fear, has gone terribly wrong.”

“See, if you hadn't put it that way, I would have never guessed.” Clint snipes with narrowed eyes. Wonderful, this is just going marvellously. Instead of firing back, Loki presses a thumb against the bridge of his nose with a deep breath. Arguing isn't going to get them anywhere.

“I don't know what has gone wrong, but I do know how to fix this mistake.” It had been a mistake. A terrible mistake. A year, Loki had spent trying to justify to himself that this was what it took to keep everyone safe. He realizes, he had never been so wrong. He can feel everyone's eyes burning against him in silent judgement. The truce they had found a year ago had been precarious at best. He is lucky they haven't attacked and detained him yet. The magic had broken, but it is not merely just a simple spell. Something powerful stirs in the darkest crevices of the universe, churning, and it draws closer. Fast.

“This will require haste.” He looks at Steve who has been kneeling beside the unconscious form of Banner. The beast must have fulfilled his task. “But I-,” it hurts to admit it. It physically hurts. “I am weakened and must find my way with more conventional methods.”

Thor stops him mid-stride and whispers with urgency. “Tell me you have travelled to Asgard to consume the apples.”

“You know I have not.” Loki wipes some blood from his nose and shrugs at the sight of it. “I could not risk leading him there. Mother-”

“What would you have done?” Thor grabs him by the shoulders, shakes him, then pulls him in a tight embrace. “Their power is not infinite and you're already weakened here on Midgard. What if you had lost your life? I've lost you once before, twice now if we are true. What must I do for you to understand, you do not stand alone? And now this? Tony's memories? His memories of y-”

“I'll have to stop you right there, dear brother.” Loki slides from Thor's grasp. “For this is something I am painfully aware of and if you will help me, I would see his memories restored.”

“How?”

“Your memories, to keep them safe I bound them in a book, I-” he sighs. “I enchanted it so when I died, all your memories would be returned. I don't know what caused the enchantment to break for all of you but Anthony.” He lowers his eyes trying to will away the feelings that are still attached to that name. Feelings that for a long time, Loki had thought forgotten. “I kept the book hidden in the room I have lived in this past year.”

“No time to waste then. Let's go.” Natasha looks at him. “Quicker we leave, the sooner we solve this mess.”


	7. Back in Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the world falls apart, everything changes.

To say Loki isn't fond of human forms of individual transportation is an understatement. He had endured public transit for over a year, but the idea of sitting in a tiny metal box, surrounded by other tiny metal boxes all containing people whose skills of manoeuvring said tiny metal boxes was rudimentary at best. It does not sit well with him. His stance possibly has a lot to do with the traffic gridlock they have been sitting in for the past half hour. He sighs again and shifts his hips. Even with the seat back all the way, Loki's knees are wedged against the glove box. He is not happy.

“Are you seriously sulking because we are stuck in traffic?” Natasha glances at him. Before he can answer, she continues. “I believe the reason we are stuck in traffic is because we are retrieving a book from your secret hideout where _you_ put our memories which _you_ stole in order to 'protect' us. Only _your_ plan backfired and now all of us have our memories except for Stark. I think tha-”

“Alright, you have made your point very clear.” He says and doesn't look at her. She is right and he hates it. “I am... how would Stark say? An asshole.”

“You'll get no argument from me.”

“Thanks.” He pauses. Atonement. “Look, I am very sorry. I understand if you do not believe me, but-”

“I believe you.” She says and pulls the car into a parking garage. “Come on.” She gets out of the car. “Transit will be faster.”

They walk in silence. They take the PATH in silence, but it isn't entirely uncomfortable. Loki has expected- well he'd expected to continue his charade indefinitely- however in a more recent turn of events he'd expected more hostility regarding the theft of their memories. Perhaps they wait until Anthony's memories are restored. It makes no difference to him. He cares not. He certainly does not grind his teeth with worry. He cannot even begin, he can't, not if he values what little of his sanity remains. When they return, Thor will have one of Iðunn's apples to replenish his powers.

Normally, he would not require them so often, but he has stretched his talents far, farther than he had ever before attempted. On Midgard, where his powers are not at their peak. He is weak. The only perk of Thanos' presence had been unlimited access to his talents. No apples. The power hidden within the stones, even only one of them. It was tantalizing, replenishing. He had channelled the Tesseract with his sceptre and while it had given Thanos a certain... advantage, he had felt true power and he knew if he would ever get the chance again, he could channel it fully, wholly, and absolutely. He would never again need to beg Thor for another damned apple.

“Are you going to open the door or continue to glower at it until it opens?” Natasha's voice is calm, collected.

“Well I haven't got a key.” He replies. He doesn't mention that it lies at the bottom of a burnt out garbage bin outside the apartment complex of- “I did not come to Stark's tower on my own accord if you have forgotten already.”

“I haven't.” If it had been another time, Loki would have struck her for that insolent smirk playing around her lips. He is no longer that person. So, he rolls his eyes as she places a device on the door. The lock clicks in moments and once upstairs, Loki exhales audibly with relief when Ann is not at home.

“Where is it?” Natasha looks around the apartment, curious but not enough to touch anything.

“In my- in Lucy's room.” He corrects himself. He was never Lucy and Lucy never him even when in the end the lines became blurred.

“Lucy.”

“Not another word.” Loki gives her a look and walks into the room he had called home. It looks the same as it had the night before, bed still down, his selection of clothes still on the covers. He reaches into the small nook in which he had left the book.

The nook is empty.

_Empty._

He feels for it behind the bed with frantic panic, folds the whole thing up and even raids through the closet. It's not there. _No!_ The book has vanished. And with it, Anthony's memories. Their memories- everything. He feels ill.

“What's going on?” Natasha looks through the door.

“It's gone.” Loki feels hollow. “The book is go-”

Natasha grabs him by the shirt and slams him into the wall hard enough to take his breath.

“Is this a game?!” She is furious, eyes lit, her gun at Loki's throat. “Is this a trap? What did you do to it?!”

“I didn't-”

“What did you do?!” The rage in her eyes is fuelled by care. Of course, her memories retrieved, she feels the familial bond her and the other Avengers had formed. In the beginning, when it had been hard to live with what he had done, he had sought solace in their memories.

“What have I done?” He whispers, the prick of tears in his eyes but he does not care. “If you must do it, then do it now while my powers wane for I deserve no more in light of what I have done.”

The shot never comes and the rage flees Natasha's eyes as fast as it had appeared.

“If I didn't know better,” she holsters her gun, “I would accuse you of being in love.”

“Then, Miss Romanoff, it is good that you indeed do know better.”

“Is there any other way you can get his memories back?”

“My death.”  
  
“Don't suggest that around Banner, also Plan B?”

“Thor will help me restore my powers. Perhaps then I can break the enchantment.”

“So, why didn't you just wait at the tower then?" Natasha raises an eyebrow.

“Because there is something else I must do.” He says and grabs a pen and paper and scribbles down a few words and places the paper on a wooden box on top of his desk.

“Care to elaborate?”

“Closure,” he simply says and leaves the room. Someone around here should at least have some. He knows by now it will not be him.

The return to the tower feels empty, useless, and if he could muster the strength he would once again run away. He cannot bring himself to look at Tony when Natasha tells him the news. He does not need to see the sneer and disdain for him. It doesn't go over well. At first, Tony seems to take it better than expected- as well as one could react to that sort of news. However, things quickly start to deteriorate when Tony asks where the book had gone and when Natasha tells him they don't know, it takes her and Barton to hold him back.

“It's probably best if you have us deal with him right now.” He hears Natasha's voice. It's not subtle, but kinder than the 'get the fuck out' Antho- Stark is shouting.

The pang of jealousy hits him harder than he is prepared for after he closes the door to what had once been his cell. That moment he and Stark had shared in the kitchen, when instead of watching the man kill himself, Loki had chosen to intervene, to _help_ because he understood. That strange bond they had formed. That _something_ that for all his eloquence, Loki could not articulate, not even in thought. It is gone. A bitter chuckle escapes his lips. Oh yes, this he has become accustomed to, that feeling of abandonment, being discarded, brushed off as a foul odour to be avoided at any and all costs. Worst of all, deep down inside, he knows it is his own fault. He's the one who let go when he realized Odin's love was nothing more than a political masquerade. He should have allowed Thor- and his mother, he still calls her that despite everything- to speak on his behalf for they had truly been the only ones on his side. Instead, he had acted like an ill-tempered youngling, forsaking when he should have fought.

That had not been his only fault. There are many failures in his life and none are quite as thorough as giving into the lure of power that Thanos had held within his grasp but never truly surrendered. There is not much he remembers clearly after his fall. The vague memory of pain is there, the distinct feeling of skin removed from flesh, the Other's hand gentle on his cheek when he forced himself upon Loki's mind without mercy, the eventual betrayal of his body and mind, drunk on power and the need to no longer be himself. In retrospect, he is not sure of what was real and what was conjured either by him or Thanos. It does not matter. He is angry with himself for allowing such self-pitying indulgences of the past. Pacing in his former room, he listens to the muffled- and not so muffled- voices outside. Natasha and Steve really try to be helpful but it's Stark and a part of is brain is missing.

 _Can't trust him!_ Ah yes, of course. _Recklessly endangered us!_ Also true. _Selfish asshole just out for his own gain!_ It shouldn't have hurt, but it does. Loki feels his chest constrict, feels a sting in his throat and eyes. He swallows it down just in time for a gentle knock on his door. That surprises him. He hadn't expected to be treated like a guest.

“Come in?” He says and gets up off the bed. The last person he would expect to see coming through that door was Bruce Banner. And here he is. He flinches mostly out of habit. He knows what's beneath that calm exterior.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he offers, “the other guy was trying to tell me what's going on but I didn't get it. Turns out your magic trick didn't work on him.” He pauses for a bit. “Are you healing okay?”

“Yes,” Loki furrows his brows, “I am.” He's not certain why Banner is here in his room.

“Look, I know this must be hard, but he will remember his feelings for you.” Ah yes. Now his presence makes sense. Best friend speaking on Tony's behalf.

“Thank you for stopping by, Doctor Banner.” He's not dealing with this right now. “I will let you know as soon as my condition changes.” He's not dealing with this right now talking to Banner of all people. Or any of the Avengers. He hasn't sunk that low just yet. “Do let me know when my brother returns. Thank you.” He can feel Banner's eyes on him, but that's all he has to say. It is all he wants to say. Still, Banner insists on staring at him for a few moments more.

“Okay,” he finally says, “okay.” There's nothing else, just the soft click of the door. Loki sits back on the bed with a heavy sigh. _Fuck_.

It's quiet for a while. He closes his eyes for a few moments, allows his thoughts to drift away into nothingness. The knock on the door startles him awake. He blinks, realizing he must have fallen asleep. He rubs his eyes and sits up.

“I don't see why any of you bother knocking." He gets up, shaking his head, opens the door, and finds himself crushed in Thor's arms. Oh that's just fantastic. He tries to extricate himself. “Thor, please, you are crushing me.” He manages to escape when his statement causes the man pause. “My ribs would appreciate some restraint next- what's wrong?” Thor is pale, too pale. There's a sorrow etched upon his face, a sorrow of the like Loki had never before seen. “Brother?”

“I am truly sorry, Loki.” Thor looks broken and filled with despair. “Once father knew you were alive... he has forbidden any apples to be brought to you.

Of course, Loki doesn't feel much of anything in light of the news. He is not surprised. While Asgard was not forged in myth, it had been forged in science. Science that culminated in the creation of apples which prolonged the natural youth, strengthened magical ability, and gave to all those who consumed them a much longer and youthful life. He can see why Odin would deny him such a privilege after all Loki has done. Yet, he sets his jaw, grinds his teeth and sinks them into the flesh of his cheek.

Buried and forgotten, cast out and decaying, Loki would slowly perish and Odin would never have to lift a single finger to get rid of the disappointment that was the stolen child of Jotunheim. His magic would fade; his form would deteriorate until only his Jotun skin remained and then he would wither away until nothing else is left, until everything Loki has ever been is lost, until there is no hope, no life, nothing. Everything he had gone through culminated into nothing. Nothing.

 _Nothing_.

The scream escapes his lips before he knows it's even forming. It shakes him to the core. He cannot stop, his mind is on fire, everything is on fire and it will leave nothing, absolutely nothing. He had nothing. He is nothing. He would be nothing. His legs cannot carry him, but he doesn't fall. He feels Thor's arms wrap tightly around him. Loki's screams are filled with anger, rage, and in Thor's arms, they deteriorate into sobs until he has truly nothing left inside of him. He doesn't hear Thor's soft sigh. _Oh Loki_. He doesn't react when his brother pulls him closer. For the first time since his fall, he simply lets go.

“Loki,” Thor whispers in his ear when Loki finally calms. “We will not abandon you, even if it means going against father's orders.” He places a cloth bundle in his brother's hand. Loki closes his eyes and pulls away.

“What's this?” He looks at the lilac fabric in his hand. Already he knows by the shape, by the weight.

“Mother sends it”

“No,” Loki whispers. She should not have done this, should not have sacrificed so much in such uncertain times. “I cannot accept this.” He holds the apple in his hand.

“Eat.” Thor insists. “She wishes to see you when your talents return.

“I've no choice then.” To see his mother again... after all this time, after all he's done. Yet she still sends him such gifts, such forgiveness.

“No, you do not.” A smile plays around Thor's lips.

“You could have mentioned this,” he holds up the apple, “sooner or perhaps begun with this and then explained Odin's orders.” Loki takes a bite and raises his eyebrows.

“You seemed to have pent up emotions you required to release.” Thor said and squeezed Loki's hand.

Slowly, Loki eats and savours every bite of this gift. There is much he wants to say to Thor, wants to express his rage to be taken so off-guard but Loki knows Thor is right. He will never admit it out loud. Never. But his brother is right. The apple is light, juicy, and as he eats it, he can feel his body begin to change, the ability to channel the matter and energy of the universe returns in full. He eats it whole, core and stem and all.

“We will find-” Shouts and screams from outside the door interrupt Thor's words. They don't need to look at each other, they are both up and through the door in moments.

The tower is in utter chaos.

Energy discharges fly around the penthouse. Natasha and Barton crouch behind the round sofa near the second terrace entrance. Loki can't see Steve or Hulk, but Tony is fighting, drawing most of the fire away from Barton and Natasha. The attackers, Loki has seen them before. Marauders, space pirates with a pledged allegiance to Thanos. Tony doesn't see the cannon pulling up behind him. A cannon Loki knows will penetrate the metal alloy of his suit as though it is not even there.

“Anthony!” He cannot stop himself from shouting as he leaps across the room and tackles the armour to the ground. The energy discharge hits the defensive shield he throws up just in the nick of time.

“Get him!” He hears. _Him_. They're referring to him, Loki, they're here to bring him back. To Thanos.

“Get out of here!” Thor shouts as he ploughs through three of the aliens. Loki looks around, desperate for a way out. The tower is surrounded. He counts at least three ships, and at least three dozen marauders pouring in through the the doors and windows. “Take him and get out of here! Break the enchantment!” Thor sends mjolnir to knock out the marauders closest to his brother.

Beneath Loki, Tony struggles, tells him to get the fuck off him, even charges the repulsor. There is no other choice. Loki holds on tight to the arm plates of the suit. He doesn't hear Natasha swear and jump across the couch towards him. Or Barton jump after her. He does feel when she impacts with his back, fingers digging into his shoulder, hot breath hissing against his ear.

“Not going without me.” He tries to buck her off, but it's to late, and she clings on.

The tower vanishes as he opens a rift in space and time. There is a faint roar in the distance, but then it is gone. They're gone. They've escaped.

 

***

 

The air is crisp and cool on Tony's face when he wakes up. Birds are singing in the distance and the soft breeze brings a sweet, floral scent to his nose. He doesn't open his eyes because as soon as he awakens, everything he feels is pain. God that must have been some party last night. Wait. He's in his suit. Why is he in his suit? Where is the faceplate? Surprised, he opens his eyes and immediately regrets his actions. He turns over and empties the contents of his stomach innto the grass beside him. He falls back onto his back and looks into a slightly violet sky. Twin suns are sinking below the horizon and in the distance, a moon rises from above a range of mountains. Well, he thinks. He's not in Kansas any more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for bearing with me. It took very long to get this part out and I appreciate you stuck with me this long. I'm taking the rest of March off to work on a different fic which I'll hopefully start posting soon. In an attempt to keep some kind of schedule for Part 3, I have signed up for Camp NaNoWriMo and will attempt to write most of it in 30 days in April. Wish me luck! <3

**Author's Note:**

> aiming for a bi-weekly update schedule (faster if I can manage) to accommodate for writing my thesis (omg!)
> 
> For those of you interested, this is Loki's bed: http://www.hiddenbed.co.nz/range-1/desk-bed-double-bed


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